Planes, Trains, and Automobiles
by njbrennan
Summary: Modern AU: Meeting for the first time on a plane bound for London, Edith Crawley and Anthony Strallan will go on an adventure on all sorts of modes of travel on their way home and along the way, they'll discover that sometimes, home is not just a location. All characters belong to Fellowes. NOW COMPLETE!
1. This Is Your Captain Speaking

A/N: So, even though I am super crunched for time with law school and should definitely devote any fanfic writing time to _Shipwrecked_, I just couldn't help myself with this new story! It's been picking at my brain since I visited my sister in Chicago last week. And apparently, I must be obsessed with forms of travel, because in addition to the boats in my other story, this story will center around the forms of transportation mentioned in the title. It's modern AU and starts with our lovely couple meeting for the first time in LaGuardia Airport in New York on the way back to merry old England.

I hope you like this one! And don't worry…another update of _Shipwrecked_ is in the works and should be posted within a day or two :)

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Edith Crawley stood impatiently in the security line in LaGuardia Airport, fidgeting endlessly, and feeling her blood pressure elevate. She checked her watch for the thousandth time and prayed that the line would move along quickly. At this rate, she would miss her flight.

Finally, after eons waiting rather impatiently, Edith made it to the front of the line where a disgruntled airport worker snatched her passport and boarding pass out of her hand, confirmed what needed to be confirmed, and sent her through to the metal detectors. Shoes off, trench divested, and belt removed, Edith stood there, jumpy as ever, waiting to be screened.

She walked through the detectors, and as if by some miracle, no alarms sounded or beeped as she did.

"Ugh, finally!" she muttered under her breath as she threw her cream, lined trench coat on and hopped into her brown leather riding boots. Then, in a mad dash to her terminal, Edith sprinted, not caring who saw her.

Gate B10 appeared in the distance and to her relief, she saw a line of passengers with carry-on bags and tickets waiting to board. Suddenly embarrassed, realizing that she really didn't need to sprint like a madwoman through the airport, Edith slowed her pace down and tried to approach the gate casually, despite how out of breath she really was.

She joined the line and her breath slowed and before she knew it, Edith was stepping onto the plane. Despite all of the travelling she had done in her life, she always felt a little antsy when boarding a flight. It was irrational, she knew; air travel was very safe. But her stomach always turned to knots anyway.

The plane was massive, designed to haul as many passengers across the Pond as it could. Edith handed her boarding pass to a flight attendant, still amazed that she made it on time. The flight attendant directed her down the aisle and Edith waited, this time more patiently, as others in the line put their bags in the overhead compartments.

As she stood there, Edith saw a pair of startlingly blue eyes peer over a seat many rows away. They belonged to a man, that she was sure of, but she couldn't see his face. Her eyes locked with his for a brief moment, until she broke contact when the woman in front of her nudged her as she struggled lifting the bag over her head.

"Oh, here, let me help you," Edith kindly told the elderly woman. With one great shove, Edith managed to get the bag to fit snugly overhead.

"Thank you! You're a dear," the woman exclaimed as she rubbed Edith's arm in a grandmotherly sort of way.

Edith smiled by way of reply. Without realizing it, she looked back up down the aisle and saw the bright blue eyes watching her help the elderly woman. Well, now you're just imaging things, she internally chastised herself. Don't think anything of it!

But as Edith approached her row, a window seat near the middle of the plane just above the wing, she realized that Blue Eyes was sitting in the seat next to her. That knot-in-the-stomach feeling reared its head at this discovery and it couldn't just be due to pre-flight jitters, she acquiesced.

Row 18 was suddenly upon her and true to form, Edith stood there awkwardly. Blue Eyes was sitting in the middle seat, his long legs making it difficult to squeeze by in the narrow space.

"Hi," she squeaked. "I…um…I'm sitting…"

"Oh, are you sitting by the window?" he asked nervously, his English accent a welcomed sound to Edith's ears after a month in the States. "Terribly sorry. Allow me."

In one quick motion, Blue Eyes stood up, hunching a bit a the low hanging ceiling, and scooted out into the aisle so Edith could slide in. It was then that Edith noticed his right arm was in a sling; whatever injury he had, it seemed fresh. Mixed with the faint scent what was evidently his oatmeal soap, Edith detected that distinct hospital smell of disinfectant and sterility.

Edith slipped into her seat and Blue Eyes reclaimed his. After giving her time to settle a bit, the Englishman asked her, "I'm glad to see you made it. On time, that is…"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I…er…saw you running towards the gate. You looked as though you thought you were going to miss the flight," he replied, almost apologetically, as though he felt he overstepped his bounds.

Edith burst out laughing. "Oh, I hoped that I didn't make too much of a scene! Whenever I'm travelling, I always seem to be perpetually late no matter how hard I try. It's a curse, really."

"Oh, no scene…just…" Anthony started, but trailed off, not wanting to admit that he had been watching the young woman keenly. Changing the subject hastily, he added, "I'm Anthony, by the way. Anthony Strallan."

"Edith Crawley," she replied as she offered her hand. "Looks like we're going to be neighbors for this long flight, aren't we?"

Anthony's eyes widened as he looked down at her outstretched right hand. Realizing her gaff, Edith quickly switched hands and stuttered, "I'm so sorry. Old habits…" She hoped she hadn't offended this seemingly kind man.

Feeling somewhat embarrassed at the state of his right arm, Anthony took Edith's left hand anyway. He held on a bit longer than was socially appropriate, noticing that her skin was soft and warm.

Looking up to her eyes, dark brown and full of worry, he chuckled, hoping to abate her concern. "Don't apologize, Miss Crawley. Just my silly old arm getting in the way and causing young women to blush."

A small smile flashed on her face, grateful for his dry attempt at humor. "Oh, good. And please, call me Edith."

Anthony returned her smile, his lasting much longer. "Edith," he repeated. "So, judging from your lovely accent, I'd surmise that you're not a native Yankee. What brought you to the States?"

"Not a Yankee; Yorkshire, born and bred. My mother's side is littered with Americans, though," she teased. "I was visiting my grandmother in Newport, upstate New York, that is, for a month or so. She had taken ill for a bit, so I thought I'd help her out. Thankfully, she's faring much better now…"

"Yorkshire? I'm from Yorkshire! Not far from Thirsk," Anthony told her. "Whereabouts exactly?"

"Well, I was raised outside of Ripon…at…um…Downton Abbey," Edith admitted, as though she was ashamed of this facet of her life.

Anthony's eyebrows rose. He knew precisely what that meant. "Downton Abbey? That would make you the Earl of Grantham's daughter, wouldn't it?"

Edith nodded. "It would…"

"Ah, so you're _Lady _Edith, then aren't you?"

Again, she nodded. "It appears as though I am. But I don't live there any longer; I haven't for a long time. I try not to associate with that class anyway."

"And why is that?" he asked kindly.

"Because…oh, I don't know. I have always wanted to work for myself, make my own way in the world. I don't like silver platters or spoons and I'd prefer to get along in life without either," she stated firmly.

Anthony chuckled lightly. "That's very admirable, Edith," he told her honestly. Then, without thinking, he leaned in closer to her, close enough to smell her lavender perfume, and whispered, "I'll let you in a on a little secret: I'm a baronet."

He lingered there, and then swiftly moved away, realizing that he had been far too forward with a woman whom he had met all of ten minutes earlier.

But if Edith had been fazed by his invasion of her personal space, she didn't let on to the matter. "A baronet?" she asked brightly. "And what is a baronet doing in New York in the dead of winter?"

Anthony felt relief wash over himself, glad that he hadn't startled the young woman, but intrigued her. "Actually, I wasn't in New York, not really. I had a layover there from Minneapolis."

"Minnesota? You realize the winters there are especially terrible?" Edith joked.

Nodding his head knowingly, he riposted, "A fact of which I am now all too familiar! I certainly wasn't prepared for the cold. Everyone was walking around in subzero thermal gear and I had nothing but a duffle coat and a pair of mittens."

Edith laughed at the image of a scantly clad Englishman in a foot of snow. "Why on earth would you go there? It's absolutely freezing this time of year!"

Nervous though he was to admit, Anthony opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak a single word, the speaker dinged with a message from their captain.

"Hello ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Thank you for joining us today on our nonstop flight from New York-LaGuardia to London-Heathrow. Estimated flight time is at approximately 7 hours and 40 minutes. At the moment, we have been cleared for takeoff so we'll taxi over to the runway and be off…"

The captain droned on and the flight attendant's took over with their safety demonstration.

Edith looked over at Anthony, who seemed to be relieved that he didn't have to answer her previous question. She decided she wouldn't press him.

"I always dread this part," Edith admitted.

"What part? Takeoff?" he inquired.

She nodded. "It's totally irrational, I know. How many hundreds or thousands of flights has this plane made without incident? But, no matter how often I travel, I still get rather…tense at takeoff."

Anthony spotted a distraction for her. "Oh, you travel quite a bit?" he asked as the plane turned onto the runway. "Any fascinating places? What's your favorite?"

"India, without a doubt," Edith managed.

"India! I've always wanted to go. I love curry ever so much. Tell me _all_ about it!"

"Oh, well…it's very busy, literally everywhere you go in the big cities. I was almost hit by at least four separate cars in Mumbai alone!" Edith began as the engines revved and the plane accelerated.

As she recounted her trip to India during her gap year, she focused more on her story than on her fear of takeoff. Anthony listened intently, nodding, laughing, not just for effect, but because as he did, he became more and more intrigued by this young woman who told him her antics of an Indian vacation gone awry.

This is going to be a flight like none other, Anthony mused as he watched Edith, engaged in her tale, chuckling and biting her lip and pushing the copper hair from her cheek. Like none other indeed.

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A/N: I hope you enjoyed this! This is going to be a fluffy little story, if you haven't guessed that already lol. I want to make it all about Edith and Anthony, no family or other distractions at all. So far, I have about 6 chapters outlined and I'll probably alternate between this story and _Shipwrecked._

Thanks for reading :)

NJB


	2. Cruising Altitude

After the airplane had ascended into the sky, the flight attendants came around and took drink orders. Edith requested a very large gin and tonic, while Anthony was content with a Coke. They sat in silence for a few moments, each enjoying their drinks, each formulating in their minds what to say to the other.

"I know what you did," Edith was the first to say. "I'm…grateful. Very much. Thank you."

Turning away so she wouldn't see his reddened cheeks, Anthony replied, "Oh, it's nothing. I really _was_ interested in India. I've always wanted to go, try some authentic curry for once."

"Well, regardless, you helped distract me from my fears. Rather remarkable, if I may say."

Anthony nodded his head in reply and took a long sip of coke. "So, Edith, you say you're from around Ripon but that you haven't been back in a while. Where do you live now?"

"In a cottage just outside of Ripon actually," she told him. "I haven't lived at _Downton_ for a long time, but the area is lovely, it's my home. I was raised there among the fields, the trees and the smells and the people, they're all a part of me. After university, I moved back but on the condition that I wouldn't ever live in that house again. So, I rented a cottage outside of the village and work from home mostly."

"And what sort of work do you do?" he inquired after another sip of his soda.

"I write for a literary magazine and do a little editing on the side. It's a great job; I just love it. It allows me to work wherever I please and hone my writing skills. I mean, I was even able to bring some work with me to the States when I helped my grandmother. Not many jobs allow an employee that sort of freedom, I've noticed."

"That sounds splendid. It's always good to enjoy one's work."

"And do you enjoy yours? What is that you do?"

"Oh, well I have always had a keen interest in farming mechanization if you'd believe it. Not the kind of thrilling career path that most men of my generation studied at university, but I enjoy it immensely and it was expected that I'd eventually take over the family business. My grandfather started a farming equipment company in the 20s; tractors, ploughs, strip-tills, that sort of thing. I took it over from my father just before he passed away. Before that, I was in the RAF and planned to make a career out of that."

"And you gave that up, the Air Force that is, for your grandfather's company?"

Anthony nodded. "Yes, and no. I felt a duty to see the company prosper after my father couldn't any longer. But also, I-"

Edith smiled gently and prompted him. "You?"

"I, um, was injured during my service," he mumbled as he gestured to his right arm. Retelling this was evidently very hard on the man. "Took a bullet to my shoulder during Granby back in '91. Haven't been able to use it since. I shouldn't complain though; some of my comrades suffered far worse fates than I did."

"I so sorry," Edith said softly. "But I thank you for your service. It must have been very…"

"Scary? Barking mad? Insane?" Anthony finished for her, trying to lighten the heavy mood that had settled upon them. "I was commissioned shortly after graduating university. I was young and fearless and wanted a taste for adventure. Definitely got more than I bargained for."

After a brief moment, he chuckled at himself.

"What's so funny?" Edith asked as she turned in her seat to look at him more closely.

"I'm not sure. But you're the first person I've ever told that to, outside of my close friends and family. I don't know why, but I always get a little uneasy talking about it, lord knows why. But you're…very easy to talk to, Edith," Anthony admitted, almost bashfully. He risked a glance at her eyes, her lovely brown eyes, and saw her looking back at him smiling sweetly.

"Well, I'm very honored that you shared that with me," she replied kindly. "But, if you don't mind my asking…your sling…it looks…"

"New?" he offered. "It is. Perhaps it's some new sense of vanity that I've developed or what have you, but I just got fed up with my arm the way it is. I heard about an American doctor who was pioneering a new procedure for traumatic nerve damage. So, I went to the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota for the surgery and was just released the day before yesterday."

"Oh, my," she whispered, wide-eyed. "And have you noticed any improvement?"

"Not yet. The doctor said I should continue physical therapy back in England, but we're both optimistic that it will work. Actually, I think the good old doctor was more eager for it to work than I am! He'll get to put it in a medical journal and receive all sorts of accolades for his work."

"And you'll get a functioning arm!" Edith countered brightly.

"With any luck," he agreed, surprised by how accepting Edith was of his injury. Many people were put off by his crippled arm, unwilling to accommodate him, or worse yet, insisted on coddling him with tasks he could do himself. But Edith? Edith was very much unfazed by it, he noticed. She spoke to him like a man without a paralyzed arm and it warmed his heart to the core.

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They had broken the back of their eight hour flight and many of the passengers on board had turned off their overhead lights and took the opportunity to stave off impending jetlag. The plane was entirely dark, except for a single row in the middle of the aircraft, where two passengers just couldn't stop talking.

"An eight letter word for 'steal'," Anthony prompted in a hushed tone.

Edith nibbled on her pen cap. "Hmmm, shoplift? Embezzle? Purloin…no that only has seven letters."

"Let's go with 'embezzle,' shall we? I wouldn't put it past these wretched crossword makers to throw in some Z's!" he joked as he scribbled the word onto the newspaper puzzle.

Edith muffled her laughter. Turning towards her own crossword puzzle, in a book rather than a newspaper, she fiddled with some letters, but erased them after a moment.

"You mean business with that puzzle book, don't you?" he picked on her playfully, nudging her in the arm with his elbow.

"Not fair!" Edith protested, nudging him back. "My job is to play with words for a living; of course I'm expected to take crosswords _very_ seriously. It's practically in the job description. You should see me when I play scrabble. What's another word for 'bloodbath?'"

Anthony snorted as he tried to suppress his laughter, earning him a nasty glare from the flight attendant making her rounds through the aisles. He turned back to Edith who had the most devilish grin across her face.

"You're going to get me in trouble, Edith!" Anthony whispered.

"Well, it's not like they can kick you off the flight, being over the Atlantic and all."

"I suppose you're right."

"Of course I am!" Edith told him quietly, but no less triumphantly as she turned back to her own crossword puzzle.

Anthony looked around the flight at all of the sleeping passengers and then to his watch. Although he wanted to continue talking to this lovely, young woman, he didn't want to bogart her time on the flight. Besides, he had seen her hide a yawn a few moments prior and thought it best to let her sleep, even if he was wide awake from such an engaging conversation.

"Perhaps we should get some sleep? Ward off jetlag?" he asked.

Edith's shoulders visibly slumped. "Oh," she muttered. The last four hours had been very enjoyable and if Edith was being honest with herself, she didn't want to sleep, not when she could talk and practically flirt with the gentleman next to her.

But perhaps she had mistaken his kindness for something more. It wasn't the first time she had done that with a man. Back in university, she met a dashing young law student by the name of Matthew. After months of what she thought was flirting, Edith mustered the courage to ask him out to a pub with her friends and her sister Mary, who was studying at Cambridge, as well. One look at Mary, and Matthew practically forgot Edith existed. The pair spent all night at the bar together, flirting and laughing and snogging, and Edith went home alone. Now, she was approaching 27 years old and still hadn't developed the skills to decipher between flirting and kindness.

So it must be with this man, too, she thought. Story of my life.

"That's probably for the best," Edith managed, closing her puzzle book and shoving it into leather satchel.

Anthony stood up and grabbed a blanket and some pillows from the overhead compartment. Reclaiming his seat, he offered them to Edith, who took them from him, simultaneously annoyed at his thoughtfulness now and somewhat touched by it as well.

She propped the pillow against the wall next to her and snuggled into it as Anthony reached up and shut their lights off.

"Sleep well, Edith," Anthony mumbled, as he looked at the shadowed outline of her form.

"You too, Anthony," she whispered.

While Edith's breaths became languid with sleep, Anthony's mind raced and his eyes were wide open. He leaned against the headrest, and sighed. Even in just a few hours, he realized that he liked talking with and being around Edith Crawley, much more than he probably ought to, but he rationalized with himself that she was just overly kind and polite. No woman of Edith's beauty, intellect, and wit would ever look at an old, crippled codger with anything other than social politeness.

Delusional is what you are, old man, he thought to himself.

Deciding that he better get some sleep as well, Anthony grabbed another blanket, sat back down, and closed his eyes. Just as he was about to succumb to sleep, Anthony felt a weight slump against his left arm. His eyes darted down to investigate and saw a wavy mess of hair nestling into him.

Edith's weight against his good arm warmed Anthony in many ways, and his heart raced. Despite how adamant he was with himself just moments prior about his misinterpretation of Edith's friendliness, his thoughts betrayed him as they treated him to images of him leaning down and kissing the top of her head, or lacing his fingers through her free hand, or wrapping his good arm around her, brining her closer to his chest.

But Anthony did none of those things, despite how much he realized he wanted to. Instead, he sat rigidly and tried to ignore the thumping of his heart.

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Edith wasn't sure how long she had been asleep. An hour, maybe two? But as sleep faded from her body and she became more aware of her surroundings, she realized that there was a weight on her head and something far softer than scratchy airplane pillows against her cheek.

She tilted her head just a little and saw Anthony's head leaning against her own, and as she took advantage of observing him without his knowledge, Edith looked at his light grey sweater and the rhythmic rising and falling of his chest. She noticed, too, that despite how long and lean his limbs were, he had a little pudge around his belly, causing her to smile faintly.

Had she been the one to lean against him? she wondered. Even if she had, he most certainly leaned against her. Somehow, this thought thrilled her.

Looking around towards the other rows, trying not to move too much, she noticed that the other passengers were beginning to pack up their things in preparation for landing, and the flight attendants were running around in a frenzy, picking up any last bit of trash and scolding passengers to put their trays up. Apparently, she had been asleep far longer than she thought and they were probably just outside Heathrow.

Although she longed to stay put, to feel the warmth radiating from this man, and inhale the sweet scent of his oatmeal soap, Edith wiggled away. Immediately, she felt cold.

Anthony's eyes fluttered open at the sudden movement and the absence of his human headrest. "Oh, hello there," he mumbled, his voice raspy with sleep. "How was your nap?"

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that he had slept with a stranger, in the literal sense of course. Edith began to wonder if he had known at all, if it had simply been something his tired, sleeping body had done.

"Oh, well enough without a proper bed. And you?"

"Splendidly! I recall having the most fascinating dream but now that I think on it, it all seems a bit hazy."

"Hate it when that happens," Edith sympathized, suddenly very curious as to what Anthony had dreamt.

Anthony rubbed his eyes with his good hand and looked around the plane at the hustle and bustle among the passengers and crew. "Are we getting ready to land?" he asked.

"It looks that way," Edith answered as she smoothed her hair down and plucked lint off her jeans nervously.

"I must say, this has been the fastest international flight," Anthony told her. He thought about adding the reason, that spending time with her made time fly by, but he decided against it.

"You know what? You're right! It was rather quick, wasn't it?"

"So, you're headed off to Ripon after this, hmm?"

Edith nodded. "Yep. I'm taking the train there. Hopefully, there won't be any weather interference or delays and I'll be home before dinnertime."

"I hope so, too. You never know about Yorkshire winters, though," he teased.

"Don't I know it!" she joked, cracking a wide smile.

Anthony was silent for a moment, internally debating on whether or not he should ask her what a large part of him wanted to. He was travelling to Thirsk, not far from Ripon, and he would love to spend the four-hour train ride in her company.

But the rational part of him decided against it; he didn't want to pester her or smother her.

Not long after, the aircraft landed at Heathrow and to her surprise, Edith didn't feel so afraid or fearful of landing this time. As soon as the captain turned off the "fasten seatbelt" sign, the other passengers rushed up to grab their bags and the aisles were clogged beyond belief.

Finally, spotting an opening, Edith nudged Anthony, "Here's our chance!"

Both of them stood up, but true to his awkward form, Anthony stood there while Edith thought he was about to move and began her exit out of their row. But as Anthony was still standing, Edith ended up brushing past him.

Gracelessly, Edith stood there, stuck between the row and Anthony's torso, flush up against him. "Oh, goodness!" she exclaimed as she quickly pushed past him. "I'm so sorry!"

Anthony began rambling his own apologies and his face turned a deep shade of scarlet.

The two gathered up their belongings and joined the mob of people exiting the aircraft. Once outside in the terminal, Edith turned to Anthony, her left hand extended for him, and said, "Well, Anthony Strallan, it's been a pleasure being your neighbor for this flight."

Grateful for her courtesy of an offered left hand, Anthony took it in his own and steeled himself to say goodbye. "I assure you, _Lady_ Edith, the pleasure was all mine."

Edith chuckled bashfully. She desperately wanted to ask for his number or his email or anything. But she lacked certainty and courage, and so, with a small smile and a wave, Edith walked away from perhaps the kindest, most handsome, and thoughtful man she had ever encountered. It nearly physically hurt her to walk away and for that, she felt foolish; she had only known the man for eight hours. But oh, how wonderful those eight hours had been!

Anthony watched as Edith walked away, her long legs moving gracefully across the terminal, taking her farther away from him. He wanted to ask to see her again, but she had been clear that she no longer wished to see him again, not when she was the first to say goodbye.

Morosely, Anthony made his way through baggage claim and customs, all the while hoping to see Edith, but to his disappointment, he didn't even catch a glimpse of her copper hair in the middle of a crowd.

He moseyed towards the train station that would take him to King's Cross and on to Yorkshire. With Edith heading to Ripon, it was likely that he might see her on the express train, but again, Anthony didn't and began to accept that he would probably never see Edith Crawley again.

It didn't take long to get from Heathrow to King's Cross, but lugging a messenger bag and a large suit case with an arm that was still healing proved more difficult. Amongst the hustle and bustle of King's Cross, with its energy and anxiety, Anthony found himself bumping into every other person as he tried to balance the bag across his left shoulder, which kept slipping.

Grumpy, frustrated, and embarrassed, Anthony was about to board the train to Yorkshire when his messenger bag finally fell to his elbow. It was a fiasco: the poor man was dragging the bag on the floor while he pulled his rolling suitcase along with it. Passersby ran into him as he stopped to correct the situation and he instinctively tried to shield his wounded arm by turning it away from the crowd, as it was still recovering and painful already without someone running into it at full speed.

Just as his usual calm demeanor was about to break, a mellifluous voice chirped, "Here, let me grab that for you."

He turned around to see Edith Crawley pulling his messenger bag away from his elbow, a cheeky grin on her face. "Looks like you got into a spot of bother, doesn't it?" she teased as she gracefully pulled his bag over own shoulder.

Anthony stood there dumbfounded, his mouth gaping slightly.

"Is this your train?" she asked him, to which he nodded his affirmation. "Good! It's mine, too. Care to step on?"

Again, Anthony nodded and watched, utterly bewitched, as Edith boarded the train with his bag. Could this really be happening? he thought to himself.

Still standing, gaping really, outside the train, Edith turned around and motioned for him to get on. "Come on, silly! It's about to leave the station and you wouldn't want me to take off with your bag."

In a jolt, Anthony collected his thoughts and rushed onto the train. Edith led him down the car and found an empty cluster of seats. "Forwards or backwards?" she inquired.

"Oh, um, whichever you prefer."

"Such a gentleman," Edith teased as she took her seat. Slowly, almost in a disbelieving way, Anthony sat down across from Edith.

"Thank you for helping me out back there," Anthony told her. "This blasted arm causes more problems than it is-"

Edith interrupted him. "Oh, not a bother! Everyone needs a little help now and again. If I recall correctly, I seem to remember a time when a kind stranger helped me through a rough patch during an airplane takeoff…"

Anthony flashed a lopsided grin, one Edith had come to adore in the few hours she had known him. "Well, at any rate, I'm very grateful."

The two settled in, Edith returned his bag, and after the conductor collected their tickets, the train left the station. Anthony looked out at the window to his right as the London cityscape passed by and noticed little snowflakes falling from the cloudy sky.

"I hope those snowflakes stay that small," he mused aloud. "As much as I love a good snowfall, I'd prefer it to be when I'm cozy at home in front of the fire, not travelling cross-country!"

Edith peered out the window and agreed. "You're right, Anthony. The last thing we need is a snowstorm!"

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A/N: Thanks for all of the positive feedback for the first chapter! Perhaps I'm feeling a little mischievous, but I want to cause a little drama for our couple, something to make them prolong their time together. And based on the last few lines, it's pretty clear where I'm headed haha! I have a few twists up my sleeve so it won't be too predictable.

Thanks for reading and long live Andith! :)

NJB


	3. All Aboard

A/N: So, beloved fanfic readers, I lied. I promised another chapter of _Shipwrecked_ soon, but I cannot get this story out of my brain! I have the last few chapters planned and I think I'll just knock them out and then resume my other story.

Also, I took a cue from good ol' Hemingway and got a little buzzed on pumpkin cider (tis the season!) while I wrote this. Not sure if that makes a difference, but let me know if you like my drunken writing and I'll continue lol! ;)

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The snow, heavy and wet, came down in sheets and covered the English countryside in a cold, icy blanket. Despite the reduced visibility, the train ploughed on, its gentle rocking comforting a nervous and shy Anthony Strallan.

He looked up from his coffee, with more sugar in it that any human being should consume, and took the opportunity to gaze at Edith while she stared at the blizzard brewing outside their train.

Underneath a teal pashmina that draped her neck, Edith wore a creamy sweater that curved around her torso and allowed just a hint of her collarbone to peak through. Her jeans, dark and well worn, hugged around her long legs, crossed at the knee, and Anthony's eyes slowly inched upwards. Edith's hair, neither red nor blonde, was wavy and generally messy, but pinned back in the middle to frame her face. It was effortlessly feminine and Anthony could spend hours looking only at her hair, but there were so many other lovely parts of her that his eyes longed to explore. Her eyes, oh her eyes, were chestnut brown, the stuff of the earth, so dark and mysterious and able to brighten when she smiled. Thinking of Edith's sweet smile, Anthony's eyes moved down to her lips, soft and pink. He was no longer surprised when thoughts of kissing her surfaced, but the rational part of his mind told him to forget any such notion; it would only lead to heartbreak. And for heaven's sake, man! you've only known her for nine hours, he'd admonish himself at the thought.

Edith must have sensed that someone was watching her and she turned her attention from the window to Anthony, who was busy drowning in the sight of her lips.

Suddenly and embarrassingly cognizant that he had been found out, Anthony darted his eyes away, far away, and he hoped that Edith wouldn't noticed his burning skin. Gaze averted, Anthony didn't notice the faint, wry smile that appeared on Edith's lips. She knew he had been staring and was delighted at the development.

Hoping to relieve him of any sheepishness, Edith brightly remarked, "It's really coming down out there, isn't it?"

"Hmm?" he mumbled, still feeling incredibly foolish for stealing a long glance at the young woman. "Oh, yes it is. I haven't seen a blizzard like this in a long time."

"But it's a good sign that we're still moving, don't you think?"

"Yes, very good."

An awkward silence settled between them and Edith couldn't help but notice how flustered Anthony seemed; it was incredibly endearing. But she didn't want to sit in silence any longer.

But to Edith's shock, it was Anthony who spoke first. "So, tell me about your life in Ripon, apart from avoiding Downton Abbey…" Anthony was raised as a gentleman and knew better than to pry, but he found he wanted to know everything about Edith Crawley and he just couldn't help himself.

Edith chuckled lightly. "Yes, well avoiding the Abbey is one of my main priorities…takes up a lot of my time, you see," she replied sarcastically. "But actually, I live a very dull life: mostly working at bizarre hours, reading, taking walks with my labrador, Isis, and tending to my cottage, the garden especially. But I wouldn't have it any other way. It suits me."

Anthony was desperate to know if she had someone…special, but he couldn't bring himself to ask. He wasn't sure he could bear to find out that she did. So instead, he opted for safer grounds.

"A reader and a dog owner? What a lovely combination," he said, feeling cowardly.

Edith grinned and replied, "Well, thank you. Isis used to belong to my father, but my mother developed a dog allergy when she was still a puppy and I jumped at the opportunity to snatch her up! She's been a great dog, always snuggles up to me when I read. Sometimes, she'll stare at the page as well and I have half a mind to think that she can read, too. So far, she's only interested in American authors: Fitzgerald, Toole, Hemingway, and Emerson. I'm beginning to think my Isis is a literary snob!"

"Only interested in Americans authors? It sounds like your dog is rather traitorous!" Anthony joked, causing Edith to roar with laughter.

After a time, Edith's giggling slowly died down. "I've never thought of that before…that's rather funny! You're a joker, aren't you?" she asked, not caring that she was flirting outright with this man.

Anthony grinned lopsidedly, looking down to his lap, apparently unused to receiving compliments. "You're painting me a very flattering light, Edith."

"Oh, please, you've had me in stitches!" Edith told him, effectively brushing his self-deprecating comment aside.

Anthony said nothing to this; he only looked at Edith curiously. Is she flirting with me? he thought. Surely she couldn't be...

Eager to keep the conversation going, Edith inquired, "Well, now you all about my life in Ripon. What is your life like in Thirsk?"

"Oh, much the same as yours, really. I commute into York every other day for work, read a devil of a lot of books, and enjoy the odd glass of scotch. I suppose the only real difference is my lack of an American-loving Labrador!"

She laughed again, but Edith itched to know more. She wanted to know if this wonderful man was seeing someone. Of course he has a…lover or a wife, she thought. Why wouldn't he? Anthony was kind, handsome, and engaging, a true gentleman. Surely, some woman had snatched him up already. He didn't have a ring on his left hand, but that meant nothing these days and suddenly, Edith felt rather foolish for not asking sooner.

"I'm sure your wife enjoys the same country lifestyle?" she asked, the timbre of her voice noticeably higher.

"What?" Anthony exclaimed. Was Edith asking about his romantic life, trying to gauge it? A good omen, perhaps. "Oh, I'm not married. I was once…to my childhood sweetheart, Maud. She was ever so upset when I joined the RAF and after I was injured, she left; said it was my own fault, that I was asking for it. A few years ago she passed away and I haven't…um…don't do much, um…dating. Not with my arm the way it is; women don't seem to want to date a…cripple."

Edith simultaneously was elated and heartbroken for the man. Who would leave such a warm soul after he was injured in service to his country?

"That was rotten of her," Edith whispered.

"Oh, I don't blame her…not anymore, at least," Anthony admitted.

"That's very honorable of you," she told him sincerely. "I don't know if I'd be able to forgive after something like that."

"Of course you would! A young woman as sweet as you?" he countered. Edith grinned widely at this and as if on a high, Anthony pressed, "And you? You must have a sweetheart, no?"

"A sweetheart? I haven't heard it called that in a while!" Edith joked. "But no, I do not. Haven't had much luck with that, it appears."

Anthony felt relief wash over him and he tried to quiet the thankful sigh that escaped his lungs. "I find that hard to believe," he said, a subtle attempt at flirtation. "What's wrong with men of your generation? To look past someone like you?" Instantly, Anthony regretted this; he was far too old to be flirting with someone like Edith. Certainly, he was making a fool out of himself.

Edith, on the other hand, looked at Anthony with wonderment. As she was about to reply, she felt the train begin to slow and soon after, it came to a complete halt. Another routine stop, no doubt, but she wanted to continue this conversation with Anthony and see where it could lead.

But it was not just another stop on the route. A voice over the intercom interrupted and said, "Ladies and gentleman, I am sorry to inform you that the National Rail has just suspended services for trains travelling northbound due to winter weather conditions. A train about 100 kilometers ahead of us nearly derailed because of ice on the line. Currently, we are sitting at the Peterborough station, but we will go no further. We advise that you find accommodation for the evening as the roads are in a bad state. We apologize for any inconveniences."

"Bugger," Edith mumbled. "I was afraid this would happen."

"Same," Anthony concurred. "Do you think we should venture out to find an inn or something?"

Edith nodded. "We better do so quickly. I have a sneaking suspicion that a lot of people on board this train will want to do the same."

"Quite right," he said as he stood up. "Let's bundle up and get our luggage."

The two put their coats on, and Anthony tried valiantly to put his on by himself. Struggling because of the surgical wound from which he was still recovering, Edith rushed to his side and deftly slipped the right sleeve of his coat over his shoulder and flashed a quick smile.

"Th-thank you, Edith," Anthony mumbled. She treated him so well, far from condescending, and Anthony marvelled at her.

Bundled up in coats, mittens, and hats, Edith and Anthony braved the storm in search of their luggage. It was madness at the station, passengers clambering to retrieve their luggage and find shelter from the storm, all while sheets of snow fell around them.

It took a while for Edith to grab their bags; she insisted, much to the dismay of her gentleman friend, that she be the one to get their suitcases so he wouldn't further injure his already recovering shoulder. But find them, she did, and she dragged them through the show over to where Anthony was standing.

With snow dusting his shoulders and his hat, he looked at Edith appreciatively. "Thank you for doing that," he told her. "I feel terrible making a lady fetch my things…"

Edith held her hand up in protest. "Nonsense! Think nothing of it, Anthony."

"Thank you. Also, I spoke with a kind man at the ticket office and he gave me the directions for an inn a few blocks from here. We should hurry, though, before that lot rushes over and gets the last of the rooms."

"Good thinking!" Edith remarked as she and Anthony took off through the shin-high snow.

It didn't take long to find the inn, an old brick building nestled against a frozen river. Stepping inside the lobby, Edith and Anthony shook the show from their bodies and wiped their feet. Looking around, Edith felt the warmth that radiated from this place: there was a massive stone fireplace in one corner, flanked by worn leather chairs and couches, there were old, wooden beams above them and oriental rugs that had seen better days beneath them. It was perfect.

They approached the counter and Anthony requested to the innkeeper, "Two rooms for the night, please."

The clerk, an elderly man of about 80, looked back and forth between Edith and Anthony and smiled. "Sorry, sir, but we only have one room available. That train stopping because of the storm nearly booked us all up."

Anthony looked nearly horrified. The notion of spending the night in Edith's room was out of the question; they had only known each other a short while and it was terribly improper. "Ah, I see," he told the innkeeper. Then turning to Edith, he said, "It's all yours, Edith."

"But where will you sleep?" she asked concernedly.

"Oh, don't worry about me. I'll figure something out," he told her. "Sir, are there any other inns or hotels around here?"

"Afraid not, sir. But, there _is_ a couch in the room, albeit a small one. It's not the most ideal situation, I know, and I am sorry for that."

Anthony was about to decline and go in search for his own lodging when Edith interjected, "We'll take it!"

"Edi-" he began.

"If you think I'm going to let you wander around this frigid countryside in search of shelter, you've got another thing coming!" Edith insisted firmly. Then, flirtatiously she added, "You can sleep on the couch if it makes you feel better."

Anthony could barely decipher what was happening, but before he knew it, he was being ushered down a narrow, creaky hallway towards his, _their,_ room.

The innkeeper pulled out a ring of keys, unlocked their room, and showed them the basic features. "Here's your thermostat, most handy on days like today; and here's the remote to the telly, though I'm not sure how the reception will be with the storm."

Still in a daze, Anthony mumbled thanks and tipped the innkeeper. Then, he turned to Edith, her hair wet from the snow, and watched as she peeled her damp coat and mittens from her body.

He had never felt so bewitched.

She caught him staring for the second time today and her cheeks flushed a slight pink. "Looks cozy, doesn't it? The room, that is."

Anthony nodded, his eyes never leaving hers.

Edith suddenly felt warm all over and her cheeks burned. Unsure of what to say or how to respond, she cleared her throat and made her way to the bathroom. "I…um…I think I'll just freshen up. How…how about dinner downstairs later?"

"I should like that very much," Anthony replied fondly. Much more than I probably ought to, he thought to himself.

Edith managed a quick smile before shutting the bathroom door. Once inside, she leaned up against the wall and exhaled deeply, if not dreamily. What on earth have I gotten myself into, she thought. Barking mad is what you are, Crawley!

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A/N: Thank you so much for reading and reviewing this little story of mine! I hope you're enjoying it so far :)


	4. Cozy at the Inn

A/N: Thank you so much for the great responses to the last chapter! I'm slowing the story down, letting it linger a bit at the inn. Also, in case you're interested, there is a song featured in this chapter called "You Will, You Won't" by the Zutons, an English punk band. It might help to set the mood during the chapter. FF is being stubborn and won't let me upload the link properly...bugger! Anyway, you should definitely check it out on Youtube!

Hope you enjoy :)

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Anthony was waiting around in the hotel room, fiddling with the buttons on the clean shirt he had changed into, and debating the state of affairs in his mind. On the one hand, he had to admit to himself that he was intrigued by Edith, smitten by her, even. She was kind, oh so kind, intelligent, witty, and the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. But on the other hand, she could never be interested in a cripple with two decades on her. It just wasn't possible.

And although he knew it would cause him a lot of pain and stiffness the next day, Anthony had resolved to sleep on the couch; he wouldn't tempt or fool himself by sharing a bed with Edith.

But as Anthony finished the last of the buttons of his sky blue oxford shirt, he heard the door to the bathroom open. Out came Edith, clean and fresh, wearing a shy smile and a heather grey sweater that landed on her hips. She hugged her arms and shrugged her shoulders. "Hungry?" was all she asked. It was if she was unaware of the effect she had on him, innocently oblivious.

A spell seemed to cast itself over Anthony and he couldn't take his eyes off of her. Clearing his throat, hoping that he wasn't too conspicuous in his ogling over Edith, Anthony managed, "Yes, of course. Famished."

Grinning widely, Edith replied, "Great! Let's go downstairs."

The pair made their way to the restaurant on the ground floor of the inn and it was utterly packed. Maneuvering their way through the crowd, Anthony found a small table for two near the window. The restaurant was dark, illuminated by a few old lamps and small tea lights on each table. Anthony pulled Edith's chair out, to which she thanked him and he nervously took his own. A few moments after settling down, a waitress descended upon them with menus and took their order.

"I'll have the pork chop and a cider," Anthony told the waitress and she frantically scribbled his order down.

Edith looked up from her menu and said, "That sounds great. I'll have the same." The waitress made a final note and left them.

Anthony stared at this woman, her soft features made softer by the flicker of the tea light between them. How was it that she agreed to spend any time with him at all, let alone offer to share her room with him? It was unfathomable, surely.

"Have you ever been to Peterborough before?" she asked.

"No, um, no I haven't," he replied, feeling daft for being unable to make better conversation.

"It seems quaint, or at least the few blocks of it that we've seen."

"I rather like it. This pub, too, is…it's…"

"It's charming," Edith finished for him.

"Much like you." The words left Anthony's mouth before he had time to stop them. To his surprise, the expression on Edith's face was…could it be? Delighted? Not horror or disgust?

Edith, not quite the accomplished flirt that her sisters were, couldn't think of anything flirty or witty to say back to him. Instead, she simply bit her grinning lip and looked at the snow falling outside the window. But, unbeknownst to Edith, Anthony found this incredibly alluring. She was nervous, he could tell, and when she turned her head at that precise angle, the glow from the tea light delicately hit her neck, highlighting every curve and line. She was ravishing; no other way about it, he thought to himself.

Their conversation picked up and flowed effortlessly. The pair talked about anything and everything: literature, their families, films, aspirations, and embarrassing stories. They barely looked up when their waitress delivered their pork chops and ciders, nor did they really pay any attention to anyone else in the inn's jam-packed restaurant.

Edith and Anthony were in a world all their own, as though the universe fell off at the edge of their table. They spoke with each other with a newness that comes with meeting someone for the first time and yet, with a familiarity that comes with someone known for ages.

They were travelling and at home, all at the same time.

Their plates cleared and their ciders refilled for the third time, Anthony was in the middle of telling Edith one of his more humiliating moments.

"So there I was, waiting to receive my diploma, when all of a sudden the button of my trousers just popped off!" he told her through chuckles. Edith nearly choked on her cider.

"What did you do?" she inquired through laughs of her own.

"I hoisted them up and charged forward, of course! Looked like a right fool, clutching my trousers like that. People must have thought I was mad!"

Edith was clutching her stomach, pained with laughter. "I think I would've paid money to see that!"

"Well, I'm glad you couldn't. Telling you is mortifying enough," Anthony said sweetly.

As her giggling died down, Anthony caught her eye, made darker by the low light in which they were sitting. She looked at him with such…such…he couldn't put his finger on it. A result of the cider, no doubt, he thought. What else could explain it?

It was well past eleven and the restaurant was clearing off and its patrons retreating to their rooms to sleep of their drunkenness.

"It's getting a little late. Do you think we should turn in?" he asked.

"It's only 11:00, Anthony…the night is young!" she teased. "But, I think I might be due for a change of scenery."

Anthony let out a small laugh and reached for his wallet. Edith began to object, but he insisted. "I am, if you recall, crashing in your room tonight. It's the least I can do."

Edith relented, but hoped that there was something more, something better he could do to repay her…

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Slightly tipsy from so many ciders, Edith and Anthony stumbled their way into their hotel room.

"I wonder what's on the telly," he wondered aloud as he picked the remote up. He knew that temptation beckoned whenever he was alone with Edith and knowing that she was slightly intoxicated, he wouldn't dare try anything. If he did, he would regret it, but she would likely regret doing anything with an old codger even more.

Edith snatched the remote out of his hand. "No telly. I have a better idea!" She turned away from a gaping Anthony and pulled her suitcase out from underneath the bed. Fishing around for a moment, she finally found what she was looking for. Then, concealing it from Anthony, she walked over to the nightstand and plugged her device in. After some fiddling, up-tempo rock music suddenly filled the room.

"What is that?" Anthony asked.

"It's a port for iPods, silly!" Edith jested. "I found an old CD of mine that I left at my grandmama's house over ten years ago and I had forgotten how much I loved it, so I uploaded it. It's the Zutons…have you ever heard of them?"

"Can't say that I have," he admitted. "But I do like this."

The two started swaying gently to the music, rocking their bodies back and forth to the guitar and drums.

_You will, you won't, you do, you don't; you're saying you will, but you know you won't._

Edith, engrossed in the music and emboldened by the cider, rocked her hips back and forth to the beat. Anthony immediately halted his motions at the sight, but Edith noticed and flitted over to where he was standing.

_You may, you might, your chest gets tight; you say you love day, but you come out at night_.

She grabbed his good hand and encouraged him to resume dancing.

"Edith, I-"

"Come on! It's fun!" she interrupted.

Anthony had no other choice; he couldn't stand to see her unhappy. Slowly he rocked his body again, not entirely with the beat.

"There, that's it!" Edith cheered. She ducked underneath his arm and back again, signalling her intent to dance properly with him. Anthony cracked a smile and spun her into his chest and out once more.

The two moved to Zutons for three more songs, in a fit of giggles and stolen glances, that is, until there came a knock at the door.

Anthony straightened up and went to the door.

"What on earth is going on in there?" bellowed a fellow guest of the inn. "It's nearly midnight! Hush that racket down or I'll report you to management!"

"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, sir! Won't happen again," Anthony mumbled as the man stormed off. Edith shut the music off and rolled on the bed, utterly cracking up.

"You're a bad influence on me, Edith!" Anthony kidded.

"Perhaps, but I don't hear any objections on your part," she retorted playfully.

"True," he shrugged. That's because I like you much more than I probably ought to, he added internally.

Stretching out on the bed, Edith feigned a yawn. "I'm actually getting rather sleepy…"

"It's probably best if we get to bed. Don't want to upset any other guests!"

Edith grinned wryly and went to the bathroom to get into her nightclothes. After slipping into a pair of shorts and a fitted tee from her Cambridge days, she brushed her teeth and spritzed a little perfume on her neck. Who knows? she thought.

When she came out of the bathroom, Edith found Anthony in a matched pajama set, navy blue with white trims, setting the couch up with a few pillows and a blanket. She couldn't help but feel a bit dejected that he wouldn't share her bed that night.

"Are you sure that you want to sleep on some dingy couch with your arm still recovering? That couch looks a bit too small for you," she pressed, hoping he'd see her logic.

"It's no bother, really," he mumbled. "I've encroached enough on your space as it is. I don't want to be a nuisance…"

"You wouldn't be…" she replied. "If you change your mind, the offer still stands. I promise I don't bite."

Anthony grinned lopsidedly and thanked her. Then, the two stood awkwardly facing each other, unsure of how to bid the other goodnight.

Edith spoke first. "Well, goodnight, then," she muttered as she climbed into bed.

"Goodnight, Edith," Anthony said softly as Edith turned the lamp off. He listened to the rustling of her covers and closed his eyes, savoring the sound of her nestling in to sleep.

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Edith awoke to a dark room, the sound of Anthony groaning the source of her waking. He sounded like he was in pain and her heart skipped a beat. "Anthony?" she called out as she hopped out of the bed towards the couch.

"Oh, did I wake you? I'm so sorry, Edith," Anthony winced.

"What's the matter? Is it your arm?" Even in the darkness, she could see him nod his head. "Here, get off this couch and lay in bed. Relax your shoulder and I'll try to find some painkillers."

"Where will you sleep?"

"Doesn't matter right now. Just get in bed and relax your shoulder," Edith demanded. She knew she should've let him have the bed. His arm was more important that his damn propriety. She rushed into the bathroom and found her toiletry kit, dug to the bottom, and pulled out a bottle of ibuprofen.

Edith returned the room only to find Anthony sitting with his legs over the couch, tentatively rubbing his injured shoulder. "What did I say?" she said in a tone that sound a lot like her mother's.

"I'm sorry, it's just…I can't sleep in your bed. It isn't prop-"

"Forget propriety! I'm not moving until you get in that bed!" she replied sternly. After a moment, when Edith realized he wasn't going to object, she positioned herself on his left side to help ease him up towards the bed. With a little coaxing, Edith managed to get Anthony to lie down on what was her side. "I thought it'd be best if I slept on your left…so I don't hit your right arm in my sleep. But, um...I can sleep on the couch if you're still concerned about propriety…"

"Oh, no, heavens no! But this is all…all very thoughtful," he said hoarsely. Could this really be happening? It must be a dream, he wondered.

Edith then grabbed the pills and a glass of water from the bedside table. "Here…this should help, I hope."

Dutifully, Anthony swallowed the pills and gulped the water down. "Thank you, Edith. I don't know what happened. All of a sudden, as I was drifting to sleep, my arm just started throbbing. Cramping almost."

"Probably because it wasn't supported on such a small couch. You're far too tall to sleep on that thing."

"Yes, well…" he began, but stopped as his eyes traced Edith's shadowed form moving around the bottom of the bed towards the other side.

"'Well' what?" she encouraged.

"I…I…um…I've lost my train of thought," Anthony stuttered.

"Not to worry…you should be resting anyway," Edith countered sweetly.

"Quite right," he concurred. But as Edith shifted in the bed to face him, Anthony felt his whole body go rigid. "Yes, well then…goodnight, Edith."

Anthony couldn't see it, but Edith was grinning like mad. "Goodnight, Anthony," she whispered. Then, before she knew what she was doing, Edith leaned over, set her hand on Anthony's good shoulder for support, and placed a lingering kiss on his cheek. "I hope you sleep well."

"Likewise," he managed to reply, despite the burning of his cheek. It was as if Edith's lips were hot coal searing their imprint on his skin, a heavenly sensation if he had ever known one. Anthony knew that he wouldn't sleep well that night. Not well at all.


	5. Rental Car

A/N: So, this chapter is a little on the M side…nothing too graphic, but I definitely didn't "hint" as the rating guide suggests for a T story. You have been warned! This is the penultimate chapter, which is surprising…this has gone so quickly! Let me know your thoughts if you can spare the time!

Long live Andith :)

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Anthony wasn't sure how long it had been since he and Edith had gone to bed. It was still dark outside and a gentle calm had settled over the inn. He had been lying in bed for what felt like hours, rigid and stiff, unsure of what to think of being in this woman's bed.

Part of him was appalled that he had accepted Edith's offer; a gentleman, a real one, would have insisted on staying on the couch. But, oh, how his arm ached and throbbed, and how stubborn Edith had been!

The other part of him delighted in it all, from the cloud of perfume that surrounded him as he rested his head on her pillow, to the dancing they had done before, to the gentle kiss she had placed on his cheek. Was he really falling for this young woman? Surely, the opposite could not be true.

As he had done many times since Edith had fallen sleep, Anthony gently touched his fingertips to the precise place where Edith's lips had been hours prior. There was a bit of stubble there now, but he ran his fingers over it anyway, his mind aching to remember the sensation of her lips on his skin. Eyes closed tightly and his mouth forming a faint smile, Anthony's mind drifted to Edith, thoughts of kissing her and making love to her bubbling up. But they all came to a halt when that pesky part of his mind made him think that this was surely comical, that someone like Edith would ever want to be with him, an old cripple. You're kidding yourself, you old fool, he thought to himself.

Assured that what had developed over the past few days between himself and Edith was most certainly platonic, Anthony tried to nestle further into bed so he could get some rest. As he did, Edith began tossing and turning, kicking the comforter around, moaning slightly as she continued to sleep. Anthony watched and listened keenly.

Sure enough, the tossing and turning ended as a slumbering Edith found her way against Anthony's body. She burrowed her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist and entangling her legs with his.

Anthony was certain that his heart had stopped completely. Even in this old, creaky inn, far away from his village and his house, when Anthony looked down at Edith's body clinging to his, he became aware of the fact that he had never felt more at home. Slowly, almost timidly, he wrapped his arm around her, his hand settling on the curve beneath her ribs and as he became more relaxed, he heard a contented sigh escape Edith's lips.

It took every ounce of strength Anthony had not to bend down and kiss her, to wake her up and beg her to make love with him. Oh, how he wanted to! Any thoughts of keeping things platonic seemed improbable now. And suddenly, this revelation frightened him. Perhaps a sleeping, unconscious Edith wanted to be near him, if only for the heat his body provided in this cold bedroom, but a sober, waking Edith certainly would not.

No, he was only setting himself up for heartbreak when he and Edith eventually parted ways after the snowstorm. Because the truth was that, no matter how much he thought it foolish or immature or insane, Anthony Strallan had fallen in love with Edith Crawley.

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Many hours later, Edith began to rouse from her heavenly, completely restful slumber. As she came to, she became aware that she was not snuggled up against her pillows or her comforter, but that she was draped across Anthony's sleeping body.

She lifted her head and looked up at him, his mouth open and his features soft. Then, looking down the length of their bodies, she saw that they had somehow kicked most of the blankets away and her bare legs were tangled with the navy pajama bottoms of his. Edith grinned like mad at the intimacy of it all and nestled further into him, pulling him tighter.

As she hugged his torso, Anthony moaned faintly and Edith felt something stiffen near her thigh. A gasp escaped her at what he did next. Still asleep, Anthony rolled so that he had Edith partly pinned against the bed, resting his weight on his good arm so that he nearly hovered over her, and he kissed her neck gently, so softly that his lips barely graced along her skin. Edith, in turn, had never been so shocked, or so aroused, in all her life.

After a stunned moment, she decided to give in, to kiss Anthony into waking and make love to him. But as she migrated her trembling hands around his broad shoulders, she must have touched his surgical wound and he yelped out in pain. Rolling over, Anthony immediately woke and clutched his throbbing shoulder.

Through winced breaths, he mumbled curses and got out of the bed in search of painkillers. Edith, alone and suddenly cold in their bed, heard the clink of bottles in the bathroom and after a few moments, he reappeared at the foot of her bed, his expression looking rather surprised.

"Edith! You're up! I hope I didn't wake you," he exclaimed.

There was such sincerity in his surprise that Edith was convinced that he didn't actually remember any of what had transpired only moments prior. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, feeling rather foolish. "Oh, yes, just woke up," she mumbled.

Eager not to hover, Anthony darted to the window hastily. "The snow seems to be tapering off. Perhaps we could find a rental car and finish the trek to Ripon today?"

Edith got out of bed, both to inspect the weather outside and admittedly, to be nearer to him. She peered outside the window; the once mighty snowstorm had dissolved into a light flurry. The streets and sidewalks were even being plowed away. Edith knew what that meant; it meant that her time with Anthony was coming to an end and that filled her with a deep sadness.

"If you think it's safe," she muttered as she began to fish out some clean clothes from her suitcase. "I'm…I'm going to get ready now. Do you want to get brunch afterwards?"

"I should be delighted to brunch with you, Edith," Anthony replied kindly.

Edith flashed a sad smile, bundled her clothes and a towel, and took off for the shower. She locked the door behind her, set her effects down, and stifled her cries. How could she feel so much for a man she barely knew? How was that she felt like she had known him all her life? And why was it that she felt so devastated at the thought of leaving a man who, for all intensive purposes, was a complete stranger? For crying out loud, she had only known him for two days!

She hopped into the shower, hoping that the hot water would soothe her. It didn't.

Her fingers laced through her soapy hair, massaging and lathering it, as she did, Edith thought on everything that had transpired between her and Anthony and tried to decipher if he could feel even remotely what she felt. Although there were moments where Edith could see a glimmer of desire in his eyes when he looked at her or when she spoke, it was always tempered with the feeling that Anthony was keeping her at arm's length. It was an intoxicating game of tug-of-war, but one Edith hoped would end soon. She had to know, one way or the other.

An hour later, after she and Anthony had gotten ready for the day, they moseyed on down to the inn's restaurant to catch brunch. Many familiar faces from the night before greeted them, now tired and hungover from their late-night festivities. As it so happened, the pair settled into the same little table they had shared the previous night. The room was much brighter now as the morning light poured in and the hustle and bustle of a new day energized its patrons.

Everyone seemed cheerful, that is, except for Edith and Anthony, who sat awkwardly together, each of them thinking of their own experience in bed earlier. Anthony's mind reeled, his thoughts consumed with the image of Edith snuggled up against him and the lingering smell of her perfume that, despite his shower and shave, still clung to his skin and his clothes. Edith, likewise, absentmindedly rubbed her neck, her mind treating her to memories of Anthony's lips pressed there.

Anthony noticed Edith's unusually quiet demeanor and hoped that nothing was the matter. "Um, would you like some coffee, Edith?" he asked nervously, motioning towards the buffet behind Edith's shoulder.

"That would be great, thank you," she replied. Anthony nodded and got up to fetch her some. A brief moment later, he came back balancing a wobbly tray with two cups, complete with sugar, cream, and soymilk.

"I wasn't sure how you took your coffee," he admitted as he set the tray down, nearly spilling its contents.

Edith let out a chuckle. "That was very kind of you," she told him as she reached for the soymilk.

It was amazing, she mused. In an instant, sadness seemed to leave them and the two passed brunch amiably, noshing on breakfast rolls and getting their fill of blueberry pancakes. They laughed and told stories and stole glances. It was like any awkwardness between them had faded and was replaced by something both had grown accustomed to in the last few days.

After they had finished with brunch, Anthony suggested that he go out and look for a rental car store. Edith agreed, but on the condition that she come with him. She argued that there was nothing else to do in the little inn besides stare at a broken telly. But the real reason, she did not disclaim: that she wanted to spend every moment with him, savor every bit of his presence before the inevitable occurred.

Bundled up in their warmest gear, Hunter wellies, mittens, scarves, and duffle coats, Edith and Anthony stomped through the snow towards the rental car store the innkeeper had recommended. It was about a mile and a half away, but it didn't seem like too much of a hike.

Weaving through the streets of Peterborough, Anthony looked over at Edith and marvelled at the snow that rested on her copper curls and knitted hat. She was a sight to see, lovely and enchanting, the fair skin of her cheeks slightly rosy from the cold. If he was being truthful with himself, Anthony didn't want to go get a rental car. He would spend the rest of his life holed up at that tiny inn if it meant that he could feel Edith sleeping against him for the rest of his life.

But it was nothing more than a fantasy, and he plowed onward.

The pair made good time and after checking out a variety of makes and models at the rental car store, they settled on a forest green Land Rover, good for driving through snow and ice. Anthony paid the man and they drove back to the inn to pack up and check out.

It was ending all too quickly.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edith and Anthony took their time packing, neither willing to admit to the other that they wanted to prolong their time together. But when they could delay no longer without being too conspicuous, the pair loaded the Land Rover up, checked out of the inn, and they were on their way to Ripon.

Anthony, despite only having one functioning arm, insisted on driving the two-and-a-half hour journey, while Edith plugged her iPod into the car's audio system and scoured her playlists for something she thought Anthony would like. He was an old soul, much like herself, and he had an appreciation for good music. She settled on Miles Davis; couldn't go wrong with that, she figured, as _It Never Entered My Mind_ filled the car.

"Miles?" Anthony asked with raised eyebrows. "How did you know?"

"Hmm?" Edith replied distractedly. "Know what?"

"That he's one of my favorites."

Edith arched her own eyebrow. "He's one of mine, too. _Bitches Brew_ is probably my most well-worn album."

Anthony chuckled. "You have albums, my dear?" he asked disbelievingly.

"Of course! I know good sound quality when I hear it," Edith riposted.

They quieted and let the soulful trumpet fill their ears and their hearts.

Travelling with Anthony this time around, Edith thought, was terribly bittersweet. The more she learned about the man, the more she fell for him. But in two short hours, he would drop her off at her cottage and she'd be lucky if fate allowed her to meet him again.

She thought about telling him how she felt as she stared at the snowy countryside whizzing past them. But Edith had never done such a thing, never said such a thing to a man before, and she doubted that when the moment called for it, that she would have any courage at all.

Anthony, too, was deep in thought and pensive as the Land Rover moved along the highway. He was certain that he was falling in love with Edith and he was equally certain that in no possible description of the facts, would she ever return his affections. She was a kind young woman and anything interest he had thought was mutual between them was simply misconstrued. When they arrived at her cottage outside Ripon, he would drop her off and let her get on with her life. Edith was far too young and lovely to waste her time with an old codger like him.

After two hours of many a Miles Davis song, Ripon was upon them. Edith gave Anthony detailed directions to her cottage and tried to ignore the knots in her stomach. Two left turns, a roundabout, and a long downhill coast later, Edith and Anthony were unloading her suitcase from the Rover and into her cottage. It was a cosy stone building surrounded by a weathered picket fence and a massive evergreen in the middle of her lawn.

As Anthony brought the suitcase into the foyer, he felt the warmth that radiated from the very walls of Edith's dwelling. There were gobs of bookshelves crammed full, framed movie and travel posters, and thick knitted blankets thrown haphazardly over well worn chairs and sofas. It felt like a home.

"Where's Isis?" Anthony wondered aloud.

"Oh, she stayed with my friends John and Anna while I was visiting my grandmother. I suspect that they'll be glad I've returned so I can take her off their hands! She's a little rowdy at times."

Anthony let out a small chuckle and turned to face Edith. She was looking up at him so…affectionately? No, he countered internally. Just kindly.

"Well, Edith, _Lady_ Edith, that is," Anthony began, trying to keep things light. "I have rather enjoyed the past few days in your company. You have been…an excellent travel companion."

Tell him now! Edith's mind shouted to her. But he's clearly gunning up to leave…he doesn't want anything more than this, she argued with herself.

"I should say the same, Anthony," Edith replied, her voice catching somewhat in her throat.

They were standing in the doorway, lingering, while the cold winter air filled the cottage. Anthony opened his mouth to tell her everything, anything, but closed it promptly. It's just a fantasy, old fool, he admonished.

"Please keep in touch, Edith," was what he managed to say.

Edith's heart nearly broke at the words. _Keep in touch_. It was so distant, as if they hadn't shared what they shared in their time together.

"Yes, likewise," Edith replied, offering him her left hand.

Anthony took it in his own and shook it lightly. Then, with a weary smile, Anthony bade goodbye to the most wonderful woman he had ever met and hastily turned on his heel towards the car.

Edith stood in the doorway watching him walk away from her, tears burning in her eyes. The engine started, the car backed out of her narrow driveway, and within moment's time, Anthony Strallan had driven out of her life completely.


	6. Home Sweet Home

Edith closed the front door and pressed her back against it, sliding down slowly until she collapsed like a puddle on the stone floor. Her eyes burned and she felt sobs welling up in her chest and after a moment of resistance, Edith let it out. She cried and bawled because Anthony had left, because she had been mistaken this whole time, and because she was without him once again.

Wiping her tears away with the heel of her palm, she sniffled and stared at her mudroom and down into the rest of her cottage. What had once felt like a sanctuary, a warm fortress from the world, now felt cold and empty. After a while, Edith had exhausted her emotions and the tears came no more. She pulled herself up off the floor and shuffled to the kitchen.

She fished around her cabinet and found a kettle, promptly filling it and setting it on the stove; tea always had a way of making things better, she thought. Then, Edith pulled out her mobile and dialled Anna Bates' number.

The voice on the other end was cheerful. "Edith! How are you?"

Edith tried to mask her gloom when she replied, "I'm all right…back in Ripon as it turns out. How are you?"

"Oh, pretty well," Anna told her. "John and I just settled on a primary school for Cecily, so that's the big news around our house at the moment."

Edith caught herself smiling. Cecily was the five-year-old apple of John and Anna's eye, the spitting image of her mother and perhaps the sweetest little girl Edith had ever met. "That's wonderful news, Anna! I bet she's excited to start school."

"Oh, she definitely is…can't stop talking about it. And she seems to be under the impression that Isis is here to stay, as well," Anna joked.

"My fault for being too cheap to put her in a kennel," Edith apologized.

"Heavens no! We've love having that dog around. But now that you're back in Ripon, do you want me to drop her off? I'm sure you missed her, being gone an entire month and all…"

"That would be wonderful, Anna! That is, if it's not too much to ask."

"Nonsense! It's the least we could do for all those times you watch Cecily on date night. I can bring her over in about half an hour…does that work?"

"Perfect. I'll see you then," Edith replied as she hung up the phone. She turned to the kettle and took her time preparing her tea, slowly adding the honey and sugar. With the ceramic mug warming her hands, Edith made her way to her living room, with its many bookshelves and well-worn sofas and an antique, wooden table with mug rings all over its surface. She plopped down on the couch, careful not to spill her tea, and simply thought.

She thought about his blue eyes and his kindness and his lopsided grin. She thought about his oatmeal soap smell and his dry sense of humor and his lips on her neck. And then she thought about life without him and suddenly, the tears began again. Edith knew just the remedy. Well, not a remedy, per se, but when a woman wants to wallow, by God, she'll wallow. She stumbled off the couch towards her record player at the other end of the room, flipped through albums, and placed the selected vinyl on the turntable. After a scratchy intro, Joni Mitchell's voice filled the small living room her Edith's cottage.

_Blue songs are like tattoos, you know I've been to sea before. Crown and anchor me or let me sail away._

The tears came harder as Edith sat back down on the sofa. How was it that she felt so much for a man she barely knew? Was it that…no…it couldn't be. These tears weren't just the tears of a desperate woman looking for any form of companionship. These were the tears of a woman in love. She was in love with Anthony Strallan, damn it, and she had let him just walk away. She had watched as he drove from her house and all the while, she had said nothing.

_But I'm gonna take a look around it though. Blue, I love you._

Edith had just laid down on the couch, her eyes bloodshot and staring blankly, when she heard a knock at her door. Instantly, she bolted up. What if it's Anthony? she thought. What if he came back? She wiped her eyes and smoothed down her hair before rushing to the front door. But when she opened it, a very different blonde greeted her.

"Hey there!" Anna exclaimed as she pulled on the leash of a very excitable Isis. As soon as Anna examined her friend, she knew something was amiss. "Whoa, whoa, what's with the tears?"

Edith avoided eye contact and subconsciously wiped the drying tears away. "Oh, nothing…stubbed my toe."

"Bullocks," Anna countered. "I know you. Something's wrong."

The humans and the dog went inside and sat in the living room. Anna again demanded, "Tell me what happened."

"You're going to think it's silly…"

"I would never."

Edith looked at her friend, her dear friend Anna, whom she had known for over half her life. If she could trust anyone, it was Anna Bates. Steeling herself, Edith took a deep breath and explained, "It's…it's about a man."

"A man?" Anna repeated. In all her time knowing Edith, she had never been one to cry over a man before; she just didn't do it. "And what about this man?"

"I met a man on my way back from New York and we have basically spent the last two days with each other, nonstop, and…and…and I think I have fallen in love with him."

"But that's fantastic news!"

"Well, I suppose that's the nice bit. The terrible bit is that he doesn't feel the same way. He dropped me off here right before I called you and made no mention of seeing me ever again. Well, he did say, 'Keep in touch,' but I don't even have his mobile number. I feel like a complete and utter fool, Anna!"

Anna stood up, sat down on Edith's couch, and rubbed affectionate circles into her back. "You're not a fool, Edith Crawley. Falling in love isn't foolish…it takes real courage. It means that you're willing to put someone else before you. That's no small thing. And perhaps it didn't work out with this fellow, but it definitely will with some other lucky man. I'm sure of it."

Edith reined the tears and sniffling in. "Thanks, Anna. You're a great friend."

Anna smiled and hugged Edith tightly. Then, she got up and turned the Joni Mitchell record off. "What are friends for? A shoulder to cry on and a hand to turn of depressing records, that's what! Now get off that sofa. We're going to a pub to get good and drunk and when we're done, you can start to move on from what's-his-name."

"Anthony," Edith whispered. "His name is Anthony. But actually, I think I want to stay in tonight, be by myself and think a little, if that's all right."

Anna cupped her friend's cheek sweetly. "You do whatever you need to do, Edie. And if you want to get hammered, the offer still stands."

Edith chuckled and placed her hand over Anna's. "Thank you, really. And thanks again for watching Isis."

"Anytime, Edie," Anna replied as she fished her keys out of her purse. "If you need anything, you need only call."

And with that, Edith was alone once more. As much as she loved Anna, like a sister practically, Edith always fared better in solitude. As a young girl, while her sisters demanded so much attention from their parents, she had to learn how to entertain or comfort herself and as time grew on, Edith came to prefer the solitude. That is, until she met Anthony. Suddenly, she wanted to spend all of her time with this person and never leave his side, a far cry from her normal state of affairs.

"Forget him," Edith mumbled to herself sadly as Isis snuggled by her side. "Just move on."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Anthony Strallan tried to concentrate on the road, on the snowy countryside, on his speedometer, on anything, anything to distract him from Edith. He felt like a fool, an old blasted fool for feeling the way he did. He was in love with her, he just knew it, and for that, he felt even more foolish. How could you love someone after two days? In all his time with Maud, he had never felt like this. She had been his best friend and he cared for her, but Anthony never ached to be around her, to hear every thought that crossed her mind, to do absolutely anything to make her happy. Perhaps that was why he joined the RAF.

And didn't that turn out well, Anthony thought as he glanced down at his arm in a sling. Perhaps it was all meant to happen. He didn't believe in fate; how could he when his was so bleak? But if he hadn't been injured, he wouldn't have been coming home from the Mayo Clinic, and he wouldn't have been on the plane to meet Edith. What if this had all been some sort of kismet that had led him to her? But what does it matter, when you walked away from her? he thought.

He drove through Thirsk and made the familiar turn towards Locksley Estate. Anthony pulled up to the gingerbread house that had been the seat of the Strallan family for centuries and got out of the Land Rover onto the snowy, gravel driveway. Locksley had always felt like home, it had always been his most beloved place on earth, but now as he looked up at the gargantuan structure, it seemed cold. He didn't want to go inside.

Anthony stood there outside of his home, the frigid wind blowing against his skin, and snow flurries swirling around him. At once, he realized that he didn't feel at home any longer. Home was wherever Edith was.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Edith put the Joni Mitchell record back on, despite Anna's insistence that it stay off. She wanted to bask in her sadness for a while and Joni would help her do it. She dumped the rest of the tea down the drain and opted for a glass, nay a bottle of white wine. Then, throwing some snacks to Isis, Edith plopped down on her sofa and stared up at the ceiling.

She downed the wine and poured herself another. What the hell, she thought. Isis had snuggled in her doggy bed near the kitchen, the furnace roared, and Edith sipped her wine. Everything seemed normal, nothing out of the ordinary. But everything felt different.

As the sad music lulled her and she closed her eyes, Isis jumped up and started barking like mad. Edith, annoyed at her canine's overprotection, muttered, "Didn't miss that, Isis."

But Isis kept barking and then, Edith heard a car door shut. "What is it old girl?" she asked as she crept up towards the mudroom to peer out the peephole.

Her heart nearly stopped at what she saw.

Walking up the narrow pathway to her cottage, mumbling to himself nervously, was Anthony Strallan. He looked terrified, pale as a ghost; through the peephole, she saw him stand awkwardly at the front door, running his good hand through his hair, steeling himself.

Edith couldn't wait any longer and she opened the door before he had time to knock. "Anthony, what are you doing here?" she asked.

His bright blue eyes were wide and he stuttered, "I…I drove all the way back…to Thirsk."

"Yes…and?" she prompted.

"And as I stared at my house…it…I…it didn't feel like…home."

Edith started to tremble and it wasn't just because of the icy wind blowing in from outside. "And why not?"

"Be-because you weren't there," Anthony said, his eyes looking at Edith's hopefully.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, to which Anthony nodded his assent. She moved aside to let him in and closed the door, but neither moved from the mudroom. They stood there facing one another.

It was Anthony who spoke next. "I shouldn't even say this, I have no right to, not after just two days. I'm going to sound daft for saying this, especially with me being the way I am, and you being so perfectly the way you are, but Edith, I…I have grown to love your company in the last few days. I love being around you, talking with you, laughing with you. I think I'd even like doing absolutely nothing with you. The fact of the matter is…oh I must be kidding myself. Although I am far too old for you, far too crippled for you, and definitely too boring and dull for you, I…I love you, Edith."

Edith felt tears welling up in her eyes yet again today, but for altogether different reasons. "I love you too, Anthony, as crazy as it is after just two days. I have never felt this way about another person before, not ever. Meeting you the way I did, even when you live just 30 minutes from my cottage, was nothing short of serendipitous. I love you."

"You do?" Anthony replied, utterly bewildered. "How? I mean, that's…that's…"

But Edith cut him off with a quick peck to the corner of his mouth. It was a test, a toe in the water, a signal. Anthony knew precisely what to do next.

He inched closer to Edith, slowly wrapping his good hand around her right elbow, trailing it towards her shoulder, and up along her neck before settling behind her ear. His thumb caressed her cheek and his blue gaze bore into her brown eyes tenderly.

After a moment, Anthony whispered to her, "I am home when you are near."

Edith was beaming. She closed the distance between them and pressed her lips against his. Their first kiss was soft and delicate and sweet. Anthony moved his hand down to the small of her back, grabbing her possessively and pulling her flush against him. Edith, in turn, wrapped one arm around his back and the other through his blond hair, pulling at it gently.

Anthony mumbled against Edith's lips, "I wish I had two arms to hold you closer."

Edith pulled away, looking sternly into his eyes, and replied, "Don't ever say such things. You are more of a man with one arm than most are with two."

"You are the most fantastic, amazing woman I have ever met."

"I should say the same about you. Now, please…will you kiss me again?" Edith pleaded.

"I'd be more than happy to oblige," Anthony murmured, his voice low and raspy. He tightened his grasp on Edith's waist and moved the two of them against the wall of her mudroom. As her back made contact with the plaster, Edith let out a little moan and Anthony grinned against her lips.

Isis, upset at being ignored, pawed at her master and her master's new…friend. Edith pulled away and shoed the dog, but Anthony started chuckling. "So, this is the famous Isis I've heard all about?"

"The one and only," Edith mused. As Anthony looked at her lab, Edith stole a glance at him, at his reddened lips and dishevelled blond hair, and his great, beaming grin. Without thinking, she grabbed the lapels of his coat and whispered to him, "Would you care to take this elsewhere? The couch or somewhere more comfortable, perhaps?"

"Edith, you can lead me wherever you'd like and I'll feel at home," Anthony told her sweetly, kissing her as the two shuffled to the bedroom.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

_Two years later._

Edith and Anthony Strallan casually roamed the streets of Thirsk, pushing the pram in front of them. "Oh my sweet one, how I love Sunday afternoons just like this: going on a stroll with my two favorite girls in the world," Anthony mumbled as he pressed a kiss into his wife's temple.

Edith grinned at her husband's kind words, leaned against him, and wrapped her arm through his. The surgery that had prompted his travel across the Pond had been rather successful. Anthony's once paralyzed arm didn't have its pre-injury mobility, but he could hold his daughter and wrap both arms around his wife, and that was more than enough for him.

"Ada sure is a lucky little one, isn't she, to have a father like you? Very lucky indeed," Edith flirted. Indeed, their little four-month-old was very spoiled, the apple of her father's eye. Anthony doted on her, knew every coo and cry, and constantly read stories to his little one. Ada was the perfect blend of her parents, with her father's bright blue eyes and her mother's coppery, curly hair, and strangers on the street often stopped the Strallans to ooh and ahh at her.

"Her mother isn't half bad, either," Anthony teased as he lightly elbowed his feisty wife. Edith feigned offense and jabbed him back.

"Anthony Strallan, you're a cad if I've ever seen one!"

"Perhaps I am. A cad who is hopelessly in love!"

The Strallans giggled and leaned against each other for warmth on this chilly, early spring afternoon. A few passersby stopped them to steal a peak at Ada, and after a stop at a teashop, they moseyed back to Locksley Estate. As the massive gingerbread manor came into view, and the afternoon sun warmed their backs, Edith and Anthony felt a sense of contentment come upon them.

It was not an uncommon feeling these days, not since that day more than two years prior when Anthony reappeared on Edith's doorstep, proclaiming his love for her. In the months that followed, they spent nearly every moment with each other, day and night, until one morning, Anthony slipped a ring on Edith's finger as she made pancakes. The two married soon after and following a honeymoon to India so Anthony could experience authentic curry, they moved into Locksley, which, thanks to Edith, felt more like a home than it ever had.

The Strallans pushed the pram up the few stairs to the main entrance and Anthony paused as he fiddled with the keys. With their daughter sleeping soundly, Edith took the keys from her husband and leaned against him. Her smile was sweet mixed with a hint of seduction. She reached up on her tiptoes and placed a lingering kiss on his lips. "Home sweet home," she purred.

Anthony moved his once injured arm and rested it atop Edith's heart. "Home sweet home," he repeated before kissing her again and again and again…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

A/N: Well, that's all she wrote on this one! It has literally flown by (not to use a pun, but there it is haha). I hope you enjoyed this fluff-ridden tale; I felt like Andith shippers needed it after this Anthony-less season, myself very much included. But I have enjoyed writing it and hearing your thoughts on it, so thank you very much! And now…back to _Shipwrecked _:)

I'd love to hear your thoughts about the ending if you can spare the time! Thanks again for reading :D


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